Short story) Through the Glass

<Through the Glass>

 

The rain pounded harder now, streaking down the glass in relentless cascades. I wiped the window again, the coldness biting at my fingers, but no matter how much I tried, the view remained blurred, obscured by the rain and by my own thoughts. Outside, the city lights flickered, their reflections stretching across the water-soaked streets. The blurred skyline was comforting, in a way—it mirrored how I felt inside: distant, unclear, unreachable.

 

It had been years since you left, but your absence still clung to me, like the rain that refused to stop. The memory of that last day replayed in my mind, over and over again. The way you walked away, the sound of the rain, the last glance you gave me. I should have said something, done something, but I didn’t. I just let you go.

 

I stared at the window, feeling the cool surface beneath my palm, watching the raindrops collect and trail down like teardrops on my face. It felt like a barrier—this glass between me and the outside world, between me and you. No matter how hard I pressed, the distance remained.

 

The phone buzzed on the table behind me, pulling me back to the present. I hesitated, staring at the screen. Your name was no longer saved in my contacts, but the memory of you haunted every corner of my mind. Instead, it was her.

 

Anna.

 

She had been patient—far more patient than I deserved. She understood my silences, the way I drifted off into my own world when the weight of your memory became too much. But even she was starting to pull away now. I could feel it in her texts, in the way she spoke to me lately—always careful, like she was afraid to push too hard, but knowing that something was wrong.

 

Her love had been quiet, but steady. She never asked for too much, never demanded more than I could give. At first, I’d thought it would be enough, that time would ease the ache in my chest and allow me to move forward. But now, with her voice ringing in my head and her message sitting unread on my phone, I knew the truth. I hadn’t moved on. Not from you.

 

The phone buzzed again. This time, a voicemail. I swallowed hard, my throat dry. I didn’t need to listen to it to know what it would say. I could already hear Anna’s voice in my mind—soft, understanding, but with that edge of sadness I’d come to recognize. The sadness of someone who was tired of waiting. Tired of being second.

 

I pressed play, the message filling the quiet room.

 

“Jacob… I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

 

Her voice cracked, and I felt my chest tighten.

 

“I know you loved her. I know you still do. But… I’m here. I’m here, Jacob. And I need to know if you can be here with me, too. Really here.”

 

Silence followed, then a deep breath. “Please. Call me back.”

 

The message ended, leaving me standing there, the rain still pounding against the glass. I pressed my forehead against the window, the cool surface grounding me for a moment. But Anna’s words hung in the air, heavy and unavoidable.

 

She was right. I hadn’t been there for her. Not really. Not in the way she needed. She had always been so understanding, so willing to wait while I sorted through my grief. But I couldn’t ask her to keep waiting forever.

 

Yet… I wasn’t sure I could let you go.

 

I turned away from the window, memories crashing over me like the rain. The sound of your laughter echoed in my mind—how you used to stand in the rain, arms wide open, letting the droplets soak you through like you were alive in a way I could never understand. Your smile had been contagious, but now it felt like a ghost haunting me, always out of reach.

 

The memories came faster now—our last night together, your hand slipping from mine as you turned to walk away. I had stood there, frozen, watching the rain swallow you up. Why hadn’t I chased after you? Why hadn’t I told you how much I needed you?

 

But I had let you go, just like I had let so many things in my life slip through my fingers.

 

The phone vibrated again. This time it wasn’t a message. It was Anna herself, calling.

 

I hesitated, my hand hovering over the phone. What would I say? How could I explain the endless storm in my mind, the way the past kept pulling me back no matter how hard I tried to move forward?

 

But the phone kept ringing, and I knew I had to make a choice.

 

I turned back to the window, watching as the rain blurred the city lights. I remembered how you used to joke that the world always looked better through wet glass—like everything was softer, more forgiving. But now, all I saw were distortions, reflections of things I couldn’t touch, couldn’t hold.

 

Anna deserves more. The thought hit me suddenly. She deserved someone who could truly be with her, not someone still living in the shadows of what could have been.

 

My hand trembled as I reached for the phone. I could hear the ringing growing louder in my head, louder than the rain, louder than the silence I had been living in.

 

I pressed accept.

 

“Anna…”

 

There was a pause on the other end, then her soft voice, “Jacob?”

 

I swallowed, feeling the weight of what needed to be said. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

 

“I know,” she replied, her voice gentle, but firm. “But is it enough?”

 

Her words hit me harder than I expected. Was it enough? Could an apology bridge the gap between us, or had I let things slide too far?

 

“I want to try,” I said, the words heavy with uncertainty. “But I don’t know how.”

 

“I don’t need perfect, Jacob,” she said quietly. “I just need you to be here. Really here.”

 

For a moment, I stared at the rain again, watching the drops race down the glass, merging and separating like memories that refused to stay together. Could I really do this? Could I let go of the past and be the person Anna needed?

 

The silence stretched between us, the weight of my indecision pressing down.

 

“I’m not her,” Anna’s voice broke through the quiet. “I’ll never be her. But I’m here, Jacob. And I’m still waiting. Just… not forever.”

 

That last sentence carried an ultimatum, one she had never spoken aloud before. And I knew then that I couldn’t keep hiding. If I didn’t act now, I would lose Anna, just like I had lost you.

 

“I know,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry for not being here. I want to be, I just… I just need time.”

 

There was a long pause, then she sighed. “Jacob, time isn’t what I need. I need you to choose. Me or your memories.”

 

Her words cut deeper than I thought they would. I turned back to the window, looking at the rain-soaked city, the life that carried on outside while mine had stayed frozen. I had lived in the shadow of your absence for so long that I didn’t know what it meant to truly live anymore.

 

Anna was still there, waiting. But I could hear it in her voice—her patience had limits. And I had pushed those limits far enough.

 

I closed my eyes, pressing my hand against the glass one last time, as if saying goodbye to everything it represented—the distance, the memories, the life that could never be.

 

When I opened my eyes again, I turned away from the window.

 

“I’m here, Anna,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m here.”

---

 

Between Memories and Decisions

 

#ref.:

https://sosohantry.tistory.com/entry/Poem-%EC%A0%95%EC%A7%80%EC%9A%A9-%EC%9C%A0%EB%A6%AC%EC%B0%BD1

Poem) 정지용, <유리창1>